Lay It Down: Bastards MC Series Boxed Set (47 page)

Stories? Christ! What was it with these people and their stories? I felt my lips purse in agitation, the knowledge that I didn’t know what she was talking about leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

Pausing for a second at my response, Cris smirked and raised an eyebrow. “While I obviously don’t know for sure, I think it’s pretty safe to assume”—she held up her hands in surrender, rushing on—“by the fact you’re still together, that you also like a bit of kink. There’s no need to get embarrassed by a little BDSM talk.”

“So I’m guilty by association?” I glowered at her. “And I’m not embarrassed,” I added childishly.

She giggled. “The way you’re acting like a sheltered and innocent schoolgirl is a little amusing. In fact, I think it’s fuckin’ hilarious.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and beamed at me.

Rocker tipped his head as if trying to work out something she’d said, and he spoke before I could form a retort. “No. That’s not what I meant.” He gave her a dirty look, obviously as irritated with her as I was, before turning to me. “It’s moah than that. I don’t evah want you to think that anythin’ in this club is private, because it ain’t. We all know things about the others that they feel they have to hide from the resta the world. That’s how we build trust, how we survive. We may give each otha a hahd time, but we’ll defend each otha to the grave.”

He sighed and sat back. “There ah some things about us that you’ll learn early on ‘cause no one tries to hide ‘em. Hawk likes to dominate fat women, and his job is to protect the club and its members at all costs. Yet he hates violence and is always the first to try to talk me down. Princess”—he jerked a thumb toward Cris—“wants someone to tie her up and give her the spanking she so obviously deserves, but if a man messes with her any othah time, she’ll fuckin’ wreck him. Dean is a cocky fuck who will screw anythin’ that shows interest ‘cause he’s trying to forget his ol’ lady walked, but he hates it and wants to find a woman to go home to. And me? I’m a miserable fuckin’ prick that won’t hit women”—he looked back at Cris, the corners of his lips quirking in teasing laughter—“even when they’re begging for it but won't hesitate to throw the first punch any othah time.”

Emotions warred within me. I didn’t know if I was shocked at how he listed off their eccentricities as if they were normal things everyone talked about all the time, intrigued to know more about these people who meant so much to the man I loved, or if I wanted to laugh because every single thing Rob just said was pretty frigging funny. They may be freaks, but even I had to admit that they were fascinating.

“So if I’ll learn all that early on, what juicy tidbits will I pick up later?” I smiled as I refocused my attention on the vegetables in front of me, picking up a freshly washed green pepper and slicing it down the middle.

I felt eyes on me, and I looked up, surprised to see that Rob’s face had hardened a bit, all trace of humor gone. “Some secrets you may never know, L.K. It isn’t personal, so don’t take it that way. We’re a tight group. Most of us have been Bastards since we were kids. With that history comes severe loyalty. Not one of us will tell someone else’s story unless we’re told we can.”

As he offered me a small smile, I remembered a conversation I’d had with Matty last summer when he’d said almost exactly the same thing. “It’s not my story to tell,” he’d told me of Rob’s time in the youth center. Loyal to the core. These men—hell, this whole group of people—were hard to figure out. They surprised me at every turn. As I started to chop the pepper, I realized that I was relatively certain they would never act how I expected them to.

Chapter 14

Jo

I tried to convince Cris to stay for supper, since that had been the original plan after all, but she swore she was exhausted. I didn’t buy it; the tension between her and Rob was so thick, it would take more than a knife to cut through it. I didn’t know who seemed more relieved as I walked her to the elevator, but they both acted as if a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Wear comfortable but form-fitting clothes. Work on him tonight, will ya?” she said just as the doors closed.

Then Cris was gone and I was alone with my roommate for the first time in days. I smiled to myself as I walked back into the kitchen. Rob had taken my place by the stove, searing the chicken cutlets. He didn’t look like a rough-and-rugged biker, but an off-duty chef instead.

I walked around the counter, grinning at the sight. “I’m sorry. When I planned dinner, it was just for Cris and me. If I’d known you would be home, I’d have cooked something else.”

He looked at me quizzically. “What wouldya have cooked? Meat and potatahs?” I could hear the humor in his voice. “Real men eat salad, L.K.”

I smiled at him, holding in my laughter. “Oh, really? Is that why I found our crisper bare—you ate all the veggies but left the frozen fries and processed foods for me?”

He nodded vigorously as he flipped the poultry once more. “That’s exactly what happened.”

I rolled my eyes in amusement. “Makes complete sense.”

He smirked. “Hey, I left you beeah.” He turned off the burner.

“No, you didn’t!” I laughed, “I bought that yesterday!”

“I don’t know about that.” He laughed back. “How’d ya know what kind I drank?” He transferred two pieces of chicken onto our plates, grabbed forks, then lifted both onto the counter in front of me. He turned to grab a couple bottles of said beer.

“Jessie told me.”

He paused at the mention of her name but recovered and took a seat on the stool next to me.

“I thought you’d stay with her tonight,” I said.

He opened my bottle, dropped the cap onto the counter, then did the same to his before taking a sip. He ate a few forkfuls of greenery before answering me. “That’s what she figured too.” He looked up, staring into the empty kitchen as he chewed absently. “She take good care of you?”

I swallowed my bite, followed it with a gulp of ale, and smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for sending her over. She’s really sweet and very funny.” As I told him about the time I’d spent with Jess, he smiled when I got to the funny parts and nodded at others. “I like her,” I finished.

“She’s great.” He tipped his bottle back, taking three or four swallows, before lowering it and meeting my eyes. “I’ve known her since she was a kid. I used to call her Jailbait, ‘cause that’s what she was.” He chuckled at the memory. “She fuckin’ hated that name. She was all of fourteen or fifteen, even though she thought she was a lot oldah, when she decided she was gonna marry me. I was wicked fucked up still, so I didn’t pay any attention, except for the fact that she was Tank’s little sistah. She was just an annoyin’ pain in the ass who wouldn’t go away.” He rubbed a hand over his face, as if struggling with something, then sighed.

“Nevah thought she’d end up working for me or bein’ part of the club. She was too good for this shit. She shoulda stayed away and married some yuppie who would be home every night and give her a normal life.” His voice was full of regret.

I didn’t know what to say to that, since I was positive she'd already told him that wasn't what she wanted, so instead I focused on something else he’d said. “Pretty fucked up? Did you have a motorcycle accident?”

He shook his head. “Naw.”

After finishing off his food, he stood, grabbed my plate, and carried them both to the sink. Realizing the conversation was over, I picked up my bottle, ready to head downstairs, but he walked back to me, two new bottles in his hand. After handing me one, he tipped his head toward the living room in silent beckoning. Sitting in the easy chair next to the fireplace, he watched me sink into the comfort of the couch, lean back onto a pile of pillows, and stretch my legs out onto the cushions.

“I asked you before, but we were interrupted before you could answer. How much do you know about the Bastards, L.K.?”

I felt my forehead wrinkle in surprised confusion. “Not much more than I’ve told you. Jessie told me a few things about Matty, but nothing significant.”

He nodded, a look of determination crossing his rugged face as he lifted one shoulder. “I thought Mateo would tell you eventually. But I think you should know who you’ah livin’ with, don’t you? Who you ahh spending your time with. And I don’t want you to heah it from one of my brothahs.”

I bit my lip, nodding. I wouldn’t turn down any information he was willing to give me, especially if it helped me solve the mystery of Matty. He and I still needed to have that talk, but maybe with a little perspective, it would go as well as our last chat. I smiled as I thought of him and our fire escape conversation.

“To undahstand the Bastahds, you need to know my history.” He shifted, leaning his elbows onto his knees, rolling the bottle between his hands, shaking his head. “I was a wicked wild kid. My parents were shanty Irish and didn’t give two shits what happened to us as long as we stayed outta their way. I was the oldest of four: Katie, Meghan, and little Colin. He was the tiniest five-yeah-old I’d evah seen. We were hungry all the time, never warm enough, and if we whined or asked for food, my father would beat us. I’m not talking back-handed beatings. No, if he came aftah ya, you spent the next few days lyin’ on a bare mattress in the corner ‘cause ya couldn’t fuckin’ move. I can’t tell you how many times he went aftah one of the babies only to have me or Katie get in the way. I wanted it to be me he hit, I could take it, but sometimes I wasn’t theah.

“I stahted stealing shit when I was five or six—just food at first, that the four of us would eat once our parents passed out. I was fast, and being as small as I was, I could get into a store and out before anyone even knew I was theah. Megs loved melon. She had a piece of watermelon at school one day, but our parents wouldn’t buy it. Katie liked anything fresh—veggies, fruit, as long as it didn’t come in a can, she loved it. Colin, well, he wanted peanut butter. I’d make a couplea runs a week, grabbing some bread and peanut butter, sometimes jelly, whatever veggies I could, and always a melon for Megs.”

My heart ached for the little boy who’d had to steal food in order for his family to eat the most basic meals.

“Then I got a little boldah, and I started on the bigger shit. Jackets for us, shoes for the babies, and this stupid teddy bear that Megs saw one day and swore she and Colin needed. I told my dad they came from school, but he was pissed because we’d taken charity. So he threw everything out. When I stole more, he beat me worse than he evah had.

“Social services was a fuckin’ joke. They’d come talk to my sisters, brothah, and me at school, take pictures of aah bruises, but my parents would just move us to another shithole and we were forgotten. It was a nevah-endin’ cycle. Until I was ten.” He set the beer on the table next to him and sat up, putting his palms on his knees as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. “I had a new baby sistah, Elizabeth, the prettiest thing you’ve evah seen. Dahk curls, chubby cheeks, and her smile melted my haht.” He smiled at the memory, and I could see pure adoration light his face.

“My sistah Katie and I took turns feedin’ her and makin’ sure she was dry. Kate’s a year youngah than me, and we did what we could to help the little ones. I worried from the time we left for school until the time we came home, not trustin’ my parents to be alone with my Lizzie girl. It was a warm spring day when we came home and found her all alone, sleepin’ peacefully. The fuckers had left her on the couch, under a pile of blankets, not even a chair propped up to keep her from rollin’ off.” Emotion made his voice crack, and he cleared his throat.

“I had Katie go pick her up while I grabbed her bottle. I didn’t know how long the deadbeats had been gone, so I knew she’d be hungry. I opened it to rinse it out and gagged. I knew the smell well enough—dear old Da reeked of it all the time. Just then Kate started screaming to me 'cause Lizzie wasn’t waking up. I ran to them, desperate for her to open her eyes, but she wouldn’t. I picked up Megs and Colin, and we ran straight to the nearest hospital.

“I saw the look in the nurse’s eyes when we ran through the door—full of pity and disbelief. I set the little ones down and handed the lady the bottle, begging her to save my Lizzie girl.” He stopped, clearing his throat again.

I wiped at the tears I couldn’t stop from streaming down my face.

“We never went back home. Child services came not long after and took us, split us up. They found an uncle I didn’t know I had in Maine and took me up the next day.”

“Lizzie? Was she okay? Did they save her?”

He looked away, lost in memories. “She survived, I know that. I think they pumped her stomach. They told my uncle later that she was adopted by a good family, one that would give her the best of everything, even if she had problems because of the alcohol.”

I was horrified. “You don’t know?”

“I can’t find her. Colin is now Colton, and he and Megs were adopted together. Great fuckin’ family. I see ‘em as much as I can. He’s an artist. Lives in Florida with his wife. Works for fuckin’ Disney.” His smile was full of pride, but his eyes were full of sadness. “Megs is a school teacher in New Hampshah. She just got engaged and asked me to walk her down the aisle next fall. Told her adopted dad that she needed me to do it, because I saved her.” His smile was deep enough to show his dimples, but his eyes started to glisten.

“Katie was sent to Maine too, to another uncle. Turned out her abuse was worse than any of us knew." He bit his lip. "I nevah saw it. She nevah told me. If I had known..." His voice was low, just above a whisper, his eyes full of hate. Then he cleared his throat. "She’s a veterinarian. Never married, never had kids because she was afraid she'd repeat the cycle. So she spends all her time with animals. But we never found Lizzie.”